'Did that agree with your own conclusions?' said Martin Beck.

'Exactly,' said Gunvald Larsson. 'And yours?'

'Yes.'

They were silent for a moment, Martin Beck standing in his usual old place by the filing cabinet, pinching the bridge of his nose between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, Gunvald Larsson over by the window.

Martin Beck sneezed.

'Bless you,' said Gunvald Larsson.

'Thank you. You think Heydt's still here?'

'Certain of it'

'Certain,' said Martin Beck. 'That's a strong word.'

'Maybe,' said Gunvald Larsson. 'But I feel certain. He's somewhere and we can't find him. Not even his d.a.m.ned car. What do you think?'

Martin Beck didn't reply for a long time. 'Okay,' he said finally. 'I think he's still here, too. But I'm not certain.' He shook his head.

Gunvald Larsson said nothing, staring gloomily out at the almost completed colossus outside.

'You'd like to meet Reinhard Heydt, wouldn't you?' Martin Beck said.

'How do you know that?'

'How long have we known, each other?' asked Martin Beck in return.

'Ten or twelve years. Maybe a little longer.'

'Exactly. And that answers your question.'

Another silence, a long one.

'You think a lot about Heydt,' said Martin Beck.

'All the time. Except when I'm asleep.'

'But you can't be in three places at once.'

'Hardly,' said Gunvald Larsson.

'Then you'll have to choose. Which one do you think's the most likely?'

'Oslo,' said Gunvald Larsson. 'They've got a mysterious booking on the Copenhagen boat for the evening of the twenty-second.' 'What sort of boat?' 'King Olav V. Luxury boat.'

'Sounds all right,' said Martin Beck. 'What sort of booking?'

'An Englishman. Roger Blackman.'

'Norway's lousy with English tourists all year round.'

'True, but they seldom travel that way. And this Blackman can't be traced. At least, the Norwegian police can't find him.'

Martin Beck thought, then said, 'I'll take Benny with me and go to Malmo.'

'Skacke?' said Gunvald Larsson. 'Why don't you take Einar instead?'

'Benny's better than you think. And he also- knows Malmo. There are a number of other good men there, too.' 'Really?'

'Per Mnsson's good, for instance.'

Gunvald Larsson grunted, as he often did when he didn't want to say yes or no. Instead he said, 'Which means that Einar and Melander will have to go to Helsingborg. Helsingborg's d.a.m.ned difficult'

'Right,' said Martin Beck. 'So they'll need proper backing. We'll have to arrange for that. Do you want Stromgren to go with you to Norway?'

Gunvald Larsson stared stubbornly out of the window and said, 'I wouldn't want to go for a p.i.s.s with Stromgren. Not even if we were alone together on a desert island. And I've told him so.'

'Your popularity is easily explained.'

'Yes, isn't it?'

Martin Beck looked at Gunvald Larsson. It had taken him five years to learn to put up with him, and equally long to begin to understand him. In another five years, maybe they would like each other.

'Which are the critical days?'

'The twentieth to the twenty-third inclusive,' said Gunvald Larsson.

'That means Friday, Sat.u.r.day, Sunday and Monday?' 'Probably.'

'Why not Christmas Eve itself?'

'All right. Christmas Eve too.'

'We'll have to reckon on full alert,' said Martin Beck.

'We're already on full alert'

'- full alert, plus the five of us from tomorrow evening on,' said Martin Beck. 'Right on through the Christmas holiday if nothing happens before that'

'He'll go on Sunday,' said Gunvald Larsson.

'According to you, yes. But what's Heydt thinking?'

Gunvald Larsson raised his arms, placed his large hairy hands on the window frame and went on staring out into the grey misery outside.

'In some d.a.m.ned peculiar way, it's as if I knew Heydt,' he said. 'I think I know how he thinks.'

'Do you really?' said Martin Beck, moderately impressed. Then he thought of something else. 'Think how pleased Melander will be,' he said. 'Freezing at the ferry station in Helsingborg. On Christmas Eve.'

Fredrik Melander had at his own request been transferred first from the National Murder Squad and then from the Violent Crimes Squad in order to avoid having to be away from home, despite the fact that he was miserly and the transfers had cost him a raise in salary as well as a promotion.

'He'll have to put up with it,' said Gunvald Larsson.

Martin Beck said nothing.

'You know, Beck,' said Gunvald Larsson, without turning his head.

'Yes, what?'

'If I were you, I'd be careful. Especially today and tomorrow.' Martin Beck looked surprised. 'What the h.e.l.l do you mean? Should I be scared? Of Heydt?' 'Yes.' 'Why?'

'You've been in the newspapers a lot, and on radio and television lately. Heydt's not used to being tricked. And it might be in his interest to pin our attention down. Here. To Stockholm.'

'Oh, s.h.i.t,' said Martin Beck, and left the room.

Gunvald Larsson sighed deeply and went on staring out of the window with his unseeing china-blue eyes.

28.

Reinhard Heydt was standing in front of the bathroom mirror. He had just shaved, and now he was combing his sideburns. For a moment it occurred to him that perhaps he ought to shave them off, but he immediately abandoned the thought The idea had come up before, in different circ.u.mstances. His superior officer had suggested it, practically ordered it He studied his face in the mirror. His suntan was fading a little more every day. But there was nothing wrong with his appearance. He had always approved of it himself, and no one else had ever commented adversely on it Let them try.

From the bathroom he went into the kitchen, where he had just breakfasted, then on into the bedroom and out into the large room where he and Levallois had had their operations centre about a month earlier, now rather bare and empty.

As he never went out, he knew nothing about what was in the newspapers, but television and radio were devoting a great deal of attention to the capture and the court proceedings, returning again and again to the subject. Now it seemed clear that the man Olsson was at most an administrator. The really dangerous person seemed to be the policeman who was mentioned so often - Martin Beck. Beck must also have been the one who thwarted the a.s.sa.s.sination attempt the month before. It seemed incomprehensible that such a person should exist in a country like Sweden.

Heydt strode with long silent steps from room to room in the none too s.p.a.cious apartment. He was barefooted and wore only a white vest and white briefs. He hadn't brought much in the way of clothes, and since he never went out now anyway, there wasn't, much reason to dress. He washed his underclothes in the bathroom every evening.

Heydt had two problems that had to be solved immediately. The first was the question of his escape from the country. He knew exactly when he was going to leave, but was still hesitating over which route to take. He'd made up his mind that today, the nineteenth of December, he would decide. It would probably be via Oslo and Copenhagen, as he had thought from the first, but the other possibilities were still open.

Question number two was even more delicate; he had not even begun to contemplate it until Kaiten and Kamikaze were captured.

Should he liquidate Beck?

What would be the advantages?

Heydt never thought in terms such as revenge. For one thing, he completely lacked such emotions as disappointment, jealousy, humiliation and fear. For another, he was a pure realist; all his actions were dictated by practical considerations. In training camp he had learned to make his own decisions, weigh them carefully and put them into action without hesitation. He had also learned that careful planning was at least half the battle.

Still without having decided, he took the first volume of the telephone directory from the shelf, sat down on the bed and leafed through it until he came to the right page. It was no more difficult than that He read: Beck Martin, Chief Inspector, Kopmangatan 8, 22 80 43.

He took the blueprint of the city plan from the shelf in the wardrobe. He had a good memory, and he recalled walking along that particular street six weeks or so ago. It was quite near the Royal Palace. The city plan was very detailed and he at once found the right building. It was in a kind of alley, not facing the street, and the surrounding buildings looked promising.

He spread out the blueprint on the floor, then took his rifle from under the bed. Like all ULAG equipment, the gun was perfect, of English manufacture and equipped with a night telescopic sight. He dismantled the weapon and packed it in his briefcase. Then he sat down again on his bed and thought.

The point of taking Martin Beck out of circulation was twofold: one, the police would be robbed of one of their best and most dangerous men; and two, their attention would focus on Stockholm.

But there were some disadvantages, too. First of all, police activity would be sure to be enormous. And secondly, every possible exit would be even more effectively checked. On the other hand, these measures would only be taken in time if the elimination of Martin Beck was discovered almost at once.

One thing was certain: If Chief Inspector Beck was to be eliminated, it should happen at his home. Early on in his researches, Heydt had discovered that Beck was divorced from his wife and lived alone.

It was a difficult decision. Heydt looked at his wrist-watch. He still had a few hours left before definitely having to decide either question.

Then he wondered whether the police had found the car. There'd been no mention of it in the news reports, so perhaps it was still standing where Levallois had abandoned it. The beige Volkswagen purchased in its stead was parked not far from the apartment.

He thought about it for a few seconds, then again began his wandering through the rooms.

On the morning of the same day, Martin Beck sent Benny Skacke on ahead to Malmo. Skacke went by car because he wanted a chance to pad his mileage expenses, but Martin Beck usually felt ill on long car journeys and decided to take the night train. Another, perhaps more telling factor in this decision was that even if Christmas was spoiled, he would at least have half an evening with Rhea. If she put in an appearance. He never knew for sure whether she would. .

Ronn and Melander had gone to Helsingborg by train, with the gloomiest expressions he had ever seen on their faces, and Gunvald Larsson, who liked driving, had left very early in the morning in his peculiar East German luxury car from Eisenacher Motorwerke. The make was in fact EMW, but nearly everyone thought it was a BMW misspelled.

If Ronn and Melander had been as sour as vinegar, Gunvald Larsson had seemed expectant, and Skacke simply happy. Benny Skacke was a merit-point hunter, and here perhaps was another within reach.

Martin Beck had not been able to get hold of Rhea, but had left a message at the Social Service headquarters' exchange. He thought he'd go home, but before he got his overcoat on, the telephone rang. Torn between duty and more human instincts, he went back to his desk and lifted the receiver.

'Beck.'

'Hammargren,' said someone with a Gothenburg accent The name meant nothing to Martin Beck, but he presumed the man must be a policeman. 'Yes, what is it?'

'We've found the car you're looking for. A green Opel Rekord, with false plates.'

'Where?'

'Skandia harbour, here in Gothenburg. Where the Saga ties up. Lloyd's boat It could have been standing there for a couple of weeks before anyone noticed.'

'And?'

'Well, there aren't any fingerprints. Wiped off, I expect. All the papers were in the glove compartment'

Martin Beck was depressed, but his voice was normal when he said, 'Is that all?'

'Not really. We questioned the crew of the Saga. Started at the top with Einar Norrman, Lloyd's chief skipper, and then talked to all the officers. Then we took the intendant, Harkild, and went right through the staff, especially stewards and cabin staff. But not one of mem recognized that guy in the picture, Heydt.'

'Intendant?' said Martin Beck. 'Don't they call them pursers any more?'

'Well, the Saga's not the Suecia or the Britannia exactly, is it? They call the purser the intendant nowadays, and the steward in the dining saloon is called the headwaiter. They'll start saying wall instead of bulkhead and left instead of starboard soon. Then ...'

'Yes?'

'I was going to say that then boats can go to h.e.l.l, and you might as well fly instead. Einar Norrman said, incidentally, that he hasn't even worn his cap for six months now. The skippers'll soon be pa.s.sing out for lack of fresh air.'

Martin Beck felt sympathy for this Gothenburg policeman, but now it was a matter of steering the conversation back on to the right track. 'About Heydt...' he said.